


Whisper Your Truths and Lies

by childrenofthesun



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale makes Bad Decisions, Fuck Or Die, Hurt No Comfort, I cannot stress enough the fact that nothing good happens this fic, M/M, there's not even the consolation of an eventual happy ending, this truly might be the most upsetting thing I've ever written, this week on Sunny Gets Carried Away Writing Fills for the Kinkmeme, why am i like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21736363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childrenofthesun/pseuds/childrenofthesun
Summary: After the failed Armageddon, Aziraphale thought he'd have plenty of time to work up the courage to express his true feelings to Crowley.Gabriel neatly upends that idea by showing up at the bookshop uninvited, declaring that he's figured out how Aziraphale survived his trial by hellfire.Whilst Gabriel is, of course, dead wrong as to the specifics, he's unfortunately gotten it into his head that Aziraphale and Crowley have been screwing, and the mingling of angelic and demonic essences is the reason the hellfire didn't work. Not only that, but he refuses to listen to Aziraphale's attempts to convince him otherwise, and informs the earthbound angel that he wants to get a piece of that hellfire immunity for himself.Under threat of Gabriel hunting Crowley down himself and exacting a far more brutal punishment otherwise, Aziraphale is forced to lead Crowley right into a trap.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 139
Collections: Good Omens Kink Meme





	Whisper Your Truths and Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Look. Someday I'll write Gabriel not being Utter Garbage but today is not that day.
> 
> Also, just a heads up in case you missed it in the tags, there's no comfort at the end of this; I did think about writing it, and got out a couple bits I liked but couldn't really weave them into anything cohesive. Sorry not sorry in advance.
> 
> Fill for this prompt on the kinkmeme: https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/3161.html?thread=1458265#cmt1458265

Aziraphale had just nestled himself comfortably into his favourite chair for a thrilling night of reading when he heard the bell above the door chime. He let out an irate huff, setting the book to the side and hauling himself to his feet, moving toward the main floor to shoo away the unwanted customer.

"I do apologise if the sign on the door wasn't clear enough, but we are most definitely closed for the- Gabriel," Aziraphale faltered at the sight of the Archangel standing in the middle of his bookshop. "I wasn't expecting to see you… well, ever again, I suppose." He drew himself up a little straighter, feigning confidence. "I imagine you're here for a reason, then? Go on, say your piece."

"I figured out how you survived your execution," Gabriel said without preamble.

"Have you now?" Aziraphale replied, voice somehow astoundingly calm despite the way his pulse picked up so much that it almost seemed to shriek in his ears.

Crowley wasn't here, which was good. That meant he was safe, at least for now, meant that if Aziraphale was very clever in the next few moments, he'd be able to warn the demon of the imminent danger before he himself was destroyed.

He shifted imperceptibly closer to the phone.

The Archangel folded his hands neatly in front of himself. "I know you've had your more… human indulgences over the millennia, but fornication? With a _demon_? Really, Aziraphale?" Gabriel's lip curled up slightly into a sneer. "I'm amazed that it's worked out so well for you."

Aziraphale felt as if the whole world was tilting off centre, immense relief at just how far off the mark Gabriel was crashing up against a series of emotions he'd spent the better part of a millennium repressing.

"I-It's not like that," he stammered as he tried to recover. It wasn't even a lie - Aziraphale, coward that he was, still hadn't dared to ask Crowley for so much as a kiss, even after the threat of heavenly reprisal had been lifted. Gabriel gave him a disbelieving look, and before he could stop himself, Aziraphale blurted, "You know, I really do prefer the term making love."

"…Aziraphale," Gabriel said with patronising sympathy, like he thought the other angel was simply too stupid to comprehend basic facts. "He's a _demon_. Demons can't love. They've forgotten how."

Aziraphale licked his lips nervously, his throat suddenly, achingly dry. "He remembers," he said, voice fierce and ringing with a certainty he wasn't sure he truly felt. Oh, Aziraphale loved Crowley, undeniably, had done so for quite some time now, but he'd never mustered the courage to ask the demon whether his feelings were reciprocated. But they must be, surely, why else would Crowley have faced down the end of the world by Aziraphale's side if he didn't feel the same way? Why else would Crowley continue to associate himself with such a fussy, frumpy angel when there was no true need for their Arrangement anymore?

Aziraphale tried not to let himself think that Crowley's love for him might well be platonic. In any case, it still meant Gabriel was wrong.

Gabriel laughed, long and loud. "It's cute that you think that's what it is," he replied, then grew serious again. "But no, I know it's not something as… pure as that. It's something _carnal_. And apparently, you can do it without Falling, just… _mingling_ your essences." His lavender eyes flashed. " _That's_ how you were able to resist the hellfire at your trial, and I can't let you be the only angel around with such a powerful defence against Hell. You're going to bring him to me so I can take my due, too."

Aziraphale blinked at him a few times, unable at first to even process what had been said. "That's- that's out of the question," he spluttered once he'd gathered himself enough to speak. "Absolutely not."

Something in Gabriel's face hardened, his expression turning thunderous and ugly. "It wasn't a request, Aziraphale."

"I don't care," Aziraphale replied plaintively. "I refuse. You can do as you wish with me, but I'll have no part in this."

"I'm really not concerned about you," Gabriel told him dismissively. "If you won't bring him to me, I'll just go get him myself." He gave Aziraphale a thin smile. "And trust me, you will not like what happens next if you force me to do that." He sucked in a breath through his teeth in a mockery of a sympathetic wince. "He could try to hide, but I'd find him eventually. Having to go through that level of effort, I think I might get a little… frustrated, by the time I caught up to him."

Aziraphale heard the implied threat as clearly as if Gabriel had spoken it. "You wouldn't."

"I really would," Gabriel replied, clasping his hands in front of him. "I mean, yeah, holy water won't work, obviously, but I'm sure I'll be able to figure something else out." He fixed Aziraphale with a level stare. "After a _lot_ of trial and error. Trust me, sunshine, he won't enjoy the process. He'll enjoy the results even less."

Aziraphale swallowed, not even wanting to contemplate the unspeakable horrors that surely lay down that path. "All right," he whispered in defeat. "I'll have him come to you. Just... take what you're after and nothing more, you must promise me that."

Gabriel made a cross on his chest where a human heart would be and smiled. "Go ahead, then."

"N-now?" Aziraphale stuttered.

" _Yes_ , now. I'm not giving you the chance to help him slither his way out of it." Aziraphale tried not to flinch. That had been exactly his plan, the second the Archangel had left.

Gabriel made an impatient gesture. "Go on. Use your… telegram, whatever it is, get him here."

With trembling hands, Aziraphale took a series of unsteady steps over to his phone, attempting to mask just how much he was leaning against the table for support, how his legs seemed to have turned to jelly. He dialled Crowley's number slowly, praying that the demon wasn't home, wouldn't answer, would stay well away. Every clack of the rotary dial resetting sounded like another nail in the coffin of Crowley's fate.

The phone didn't even finish its second ring before picking up, Crowley affecting a bored tone like he hadn't so obviously answered the moment he'd realised who was calling _. "Hey, angel, what's up?"_

"Crowley," Aziraphale tried, but his voice came out thin and strangled.

Crowley was instantly alert. _"Angel, you all right? You sound off."_

"Absolutely tip top, my dear," Aziraphale lied, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice. He snuck a glance over a Gabriel, who, appearing very unimpressed by his poor effort at acting, made a swirling motion with one hand to indicate Aziraphale should speed things along. There was an unspoken threat that Gabriel would call off the deal and take what he wanted himself if he didn't. Aziraphale swallowed, blinking back his tears. "Just found myself wanting for company, is all. I realise this is a bit late notice, but would you like to dine with me this evening?"

 _"Always,"_ Crowley replied, still sounding concerned. Aziraphale nodded jerkily to himself, holding the receiver away from his mouth so that he could let out a small, distraught sob. He'd hoped that Crowley would pick up on the fact that Aziraphale's distress was for the demon's sake, that he'd figure out that this was a trap and stay well away. With a sinking heart, Aziraphale realised it had been a doomed hope from the start - Crowley would have walked into the bookshop regardless of any danger to himself if he'd thought Aziraphale was in trouble, and there was no way of letting Crowley know he was the one who was truly in peril. 

"Marvellous," he said, forcing himself to smile so that his voice sounded a little brighter and less tear-clogged. "I'll be seeing you shortly, then."

 _"I'll be right over, angel, just hold tight,"_ the demon assured, rustling sounds in the background indicating that he was already gathering his keys and leaving his flat.

"I look forward to seeing you," Aziraphale whispered, then hung up, unable to bear it anymore. He didn't let go of the phone at first, hunching over it and shuddering as he tried to school his features into something less devastated.

"Was that so hard?" Gabriel asked, and Aziraphale's head snapped up, suddenly not caring that his eyes were surely red-rimmed.

"Are you satisfied, then?" he snapped back, voice higher than he wanted it to be. "Now that you've made me betray him like this?"

Gabriel was unruffled. "I'll be _satisfied_ when he shows up," he said pointedly, and Aziraphale found himself choking on another sob.

\--------------------

"Angel?"

He heard Crowley's shout outside the bookshop, and the sharp, worried tone felt like it was piercing his heart, his entire chest aching. "It's open," he called out falteringly, but Crowley was already bursting into the bookshop, his face filled with a level of trust and concern that Aziraphale definitely didn't deserve. Not after what was about to happen.

The demon seemed to relax a little at the sight of Aziraphale apparently unharmed, but only a little, eyes darting around the room behind his sunglasses.

Crowley moved towards him, thoughtlessly stepping onto the circular rug in the middle of the floor. Unlike the thousands of times he'd walked across it before, this time he fell to his knees the moment his feet left the floorboards, letting out a choked cry as he went.

The heavenly cigils painted on the floor underneath the rug had more than one purpose. The main one - the only one Aziraphale had ever used it for - was as a portal through to Heaven, as a means of both communication and travel. If you spoke a different set of prayers, however, as Gabriel had done while waiting for Crowley to arrive at the bookshop, the circle would instead act to bind any demon that stepped within its circumference, trapping them and rendering them powerless.

"Angel, what-"

"Thank you, Aziraphale, I'll take it from here."

Crowley flinched, whirling and scrambling upright at the sound of Gabriel's voice before gathering himself. "You?" he said, bewildered. "What're _you_ doing here?" His gaze flicked around the room again. "Where're the rest of your cronies?"

A cold, cruel light shone in the lilac of Gabriel's eyes as he turned to Aziraphale, indicating to one of the nearby reading chairs. "You can watch from there," he said magnanimously, ignoring Crowley's question.

Aziraphale felt his chest squeeze tight, and it took him a second to answer. "Watch?" he asked weakly. "That wasn't part of the deal."

Gabriel shrugged. "Wasn't it? You should've specified that earlier. I'm definitely not letting you out of my sight while I do this."

Aziraphale's gut turned sour as he realised the feeling was mutual. He couldn't leave Crowley to suffer at Gabriel's hand alone. He owed him that much, at least.

"Do what?" Crowley yelled angrily as he paced the perimeter of the rug, hackles raised. "What're you making him watch, what deal? Answer me, you holier-than-thou bastard!"

"Don't worry, I'm pretty sure you'll figure it out _very_ quickly," Gabriel told him, already advancing towards the circle. Aziraphale helplessly sat in the chair he'd been motioned towards before his legs gave out. 

With a flick of the Archangel's wrists, all the blinds snapped shut, the sign flipped over to 'closed', and the door locked with a fatalistic _chunk_. Aziraphale refused to feel glad that at least there wouldn't be any other witnesses to what was about to happen. Aziraphale strongly suspected he himself would be the only one Crowley truly cared about seeing this.

Gabriel grabbed the edge of the rug Crowley was standing on and yanked it out from underneath him, chuckling as the demon went tumbling onto the faintly glowing symbols painted on the floorboards beneath. Crowley's sunglasses skittered out of reach, too quickly for him to try and catch them along the way. He scrambled backwards on his hands and knees until he hit the edge of the circle, then went to rise, only to have the movement forestalled by Gabriel's foot shoving him back down to the floor. The Archangel ground his heel against Crowley's sternum, keeping him down as he knelt beside the demon.

Crowley went very, very still as Gabriel's hand reached toward the snakehead buckle of his belt. "What," he whispered, stricken gaze flying to Aziraphale, who stared helplessly back, wishing the plush cushions surrounding him would come alive and swallow him whole. Crowley recoiled when he didn't find any of the horrified alarm in Aziraphale's face that he'd clearly been expecting, only a gut-clenching resignation that what was about to happen was inevitable. "Aziraphale, what-" he started, then refocussed as Gabriel successfully undid his buckle. Crowley sprang back into motion, squirming frantically out from underneath Gabriel's foot and shoving the Archangel away, futilely attempting to use the limited means left to him in order to escape. 

The Archangel made a frustrated noise at him, grabbing a fistful of Crowley's hair and driving him to knees, his cheekbone thudding audibly against the floorboards. Gabriel shot an annoyed look over at Aziraphale. "Is he always this difficult?" he asked, but didn't wait for an answer, finishing pulling Crowley's belt free while the demon was still dazed by the impact. Crowley's eyes returned to Aziraphale as the fingers of Gabriel's other hand curled around the waistband of his jeans, silently pleading.

Aziraphale couldn't find any words that could possibly be adequate in this situation, could only watch as he saw the exact moment it dawned on Crowley that Aziraphale wasn't going to save him. 

The demon turned his focus fully onto Gabriel, on getting himself out of the Archangel's grasp. Gabriel had already yanked his pants halfway down his thighs, hand curling around one bony hip, looming over him. Crowley twisted, trying to shove Gabriel's hands away, but without access to his powers, it had to be like shoving at a brick wall.

"Stop that," Gabriel barked, pushing a bit of divine power into his words, into the tight grip he had on Crowley's hair and hip. Crowley froze, thin chest visibly moving with his too-rapid breathing. He looked so remarkably fragile in that instant, so powerless, so human, and it almost made Aziraphale weep.

"It's this hole, right?" Gabriel frowned down at Crowley's bared arse, inspecting it with a critical eye. "What, do I just stick my Effort in there? That doesn't seem comfortable."

"You'll want to summon something to lubricate him," Aziraphale forced himself to say. What else could he do? He certainly couldn't let Gabriel take Crowley with no preparation, with nothing to ease the way. His only recourse was to make this hurt for Crowley as little as possible, and if that meant instructing Gabriel through the rape of his best friend, then he would have to do it. "Miracling him loose for you would help things along as well, I'd imagine," he added, not trusting the Archangel to do an adequate job of manually stretching the demon otherwise.

Crowley gave Aziraphale a look of such raw betrayal that he nearly burst out sobbing. He forced his emotions down, burying them deep at the back of his mind to be unpacked later. Tears wouldn't help either of them right now. Nor would apologising; Gabriel would only mock them both if he tried, it would be better to leave it until after this was over. Aziraphale would spend the rest of his existence trying to prove himself worthy of Crowley's forgiveness after this was over. He tried to let his unspoken apologies show in his expression, but Crowley turned his face away in the limited space he had, refusing to even look at him anymore.

Aziraphale supposed that was fair, in all honesty. He wouldn't want to look at himself either, were he in Crowley's place.

Gabriel clicked his fingers and Crowley's entire body jolted, a small whimper escaping him as, presumably, the Archangel followed Aziraphale's instructions. The hand he had fisted in Crowley's hair pressed down harder, the other making short work of his own belt, trousers sagging down, underwear following in short order. There was a flash of pale, smooth skin, then Gabriel performed a miracle to grace himself with a cock, already fully erect and leaking.

Aziraphale let out a choked sound. The size of it was _obscene_. No miracle Gabriel had done could possibly have stretched Crowley enough for it not to hurt.

Gabriel made sure he had caught Aziraphale's appalled gaze before lining up and beginning his slow slide in.

Crowley stuffed his hand into his mouth to muffle his scream, ichor flowing instantly from between his teeth as he pierced the skin.

"Mnh," Gabriel groaned. "I've gotta say, he feels so nice you can almost forget that he's a disgusting demon. I think I can finally see the merit in some of your human indulgences, Aziraphale, this is…" He trailed off, sinking deeper into Crowley, and deeper, until there physically wasn't any further for him to go. "…Oh, yeah, this really is good." He looked down at Crowley's trembling back and tilted his head, considering. "Am I meant to be doing something else, here?" he asked after a moment. " I mean, it feels nice, but it doesn't feel like it's actually _going_ anywhere, y'know?"

Aziraphale swallowed. "You… you'll need to… to thrust," he said reluctantly, cheeks burning with shame. 

Crowley let out a furious, unhappy sound as Gabriel eased out and shoved back in, biting down harder, ichor pooling onto the stark white sigils below him. Gabriel looked at the mess being made with disapproval, grabbing onto Crowley's forearm and tearing his hand out of his mouth. Unmuffled, Crowley let out a sharp cry of pain, hand and mouth both stained with black.

"You're getting blood all over the floor, you worthless piece of filth," Gabriel snapped, flinging a harsh miracle at the wound in Crowley's hand. It stopped bleeding, and the ichor he'd spilt on the floor and over his lips vanished, but the injury itself wasn't healed. Aziraphale highly doubted Gabriel had done anything about the pain, either.

The Archangel wrenched on Crowley's arms, almost hard enough to pop them from their sockets, and wrapped one hand around both the demon's slender wrists, pinning them against the small of his back. He seemed to angle it purposefully so that his fingers dug into Crowley's wound, using the leverage to fuck into him all the harder.

Aziraphale felt something within him die a little more at each slap of flesh on flesh, each pitiful whimper that spilled from Crowley's lips, every satisfied groan that fell from Gabriel's.

For all that Gabriel hadn't seemed to be much aware of the mechanics, he certainly developed a rapid, bruising pace quickly. Crowley was so effectively immobilised that there was nothing the demon could do but take it, and take it, and take it.

Finally, mercifully, Gabriel's hips stuttered and he leant low over Crowley's back, letting out a guttural sound as he spilled into the demon. Aziraphale couldn't stand the satisfaction in his expression, and looked away, only looking back when the Archangel addressed him.

"Is that it?" Gabriel asked with a frown.

"Yes, yes, that's it," Aziraphale replied quickly, desperate for Gabriel leave Crowley alone so he could tend to the demon's injuries. "It's done, you can leave him be now."

The Archangel's eyes narrowed. "There's something you're not telling me," he said, then his expression cleared. "Oh, I know, he's got to do it too, right?"

"…What do you-"

Gabriel hauled Crowley upright before Aziraphale could finish speaking, the demon limply acquiescing to being manhandled, barely twitching when Gabriel dispelled all his clothes. When Gabriel's hand circled around his entirely flaccid cock, he started struggling again, only stilling when Gabriel's other hand returned to the demon's hair, tugging cruelly, pulling Crowley's back flush with his chest. 

Aziraphale could finally see Crowley's face, where Gabriel had smashed him to the ground earlier. The skin of his cheek was reddened from the impact, already beginning to swell. He hoped desperately that this would all be over soon, that he'd be able to heal Crowley's injuries before they had a chance to properly bruise.

"What did I tell you about fighting me?" Gabriel asked in a dangerous undertone, giving Crowley's soft cock a harsh squeeze, miracling it to instant hardness.

Crowley shrieked at the thrust of Gabriel's power into him, instantly cumming over the Archangel's hand, shivering uncontrollably as Gabriel kept on squeezing him.

"Oh, that's definitely better," Gabriel groaned, already rolling his hips into Crowley again as the demon tightened involuntarily around him. If the Archangel was aware that he was supposed to have a refractory period himself, he certainly wasn't showing it. Crowley had no such luxury, his distressed whines crescendoing into a wail as another orgasm was forced out of him. "I think I'm getting the hang of this. I could do without the mess, but beggars can't be choosers, can they?" Gabriel said conversationally to Aziraphale, cleaning his fingers with an absentminded miracle.

"Please," Aziraphale begged, fingers digging into the arms of his chair until his knuckles went white. "This- this is enough, you've taken enough!"

Gabriel didn't stop moving as he raised an eyebrow. "You already tried lying to me before, you know how easily I saw through that. You'll forgive me for making. Absolutely. _Sure_." He punctuated the end of the sentence with three particularly brutal thrusts, gripping the demon's cock hard enough that it would surely leave bruises.

Aziraphale nearly broke out in hysterical laughter. The idea that he would ever forgive Gabriel for _any_ of this was unthinkable.

The Archangel's hand abandoned Crowley's cock in favour of grabbing at his hip, giving him purchase to begin fucking into the demon just as deeply as before. It didn't diminish his ability to wring unwanted release out of Crowley, the demon cumming again and again as Gabriel repeatedly impaled him on his cock. 

Crowley wept, only keeping his eyes cracked open just enough to glare balefully at Aziraphale all the while.

 _Don't look at me like that!_ The angel wanted to scream. _This was the only option I had! There was nothing else I could do!_

But of course Aziraphale couldn't yell at him like that, especially not in the midst of everything that was happening.

Gabriel curled a hand around Crowley's throat, squeezing hard enough that the demon would have started asphyxiating if he actually needed to breathe. Crowley limply reached up to grab at Gabriel's forearm, but didn't bother trying to pry him away, clearly knowing the attempt would be futile. "Yeah, I definitely think I'll be able to get the other Archangels to see the merit of this, give them all a turn, too. This is all a demon's good for, anyway, isn't that right, Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale's throat felt too clogged with horror and shame to even begin to answer. Gabriel merrily kept on talking, unfazed by the lack of response, pounding into Crowley all the while. "Honestly, I can't _believe_ you never even tried to tell me about this, you've always gone on about how wonderful humans can be, you should have just led with this."

"Stop," Crowley rasped brokenly, eyes squeezed shut in a useless attempt to stem the tears flowing out of them.

Gabriel's hand slipped back and tightened in his hair, joviality instantly disappearing. "You don't get to decide that," he said, and slammed Crowley facedown. This time, Aziraphale heard something crack, and felt his insides twist themselves in a whole new series of knots as he realised he couldn't figure out if it was something in the floorboards giving way, or the bones of Crowley's face. 

"Please," Aziraphale implored. "Please, he's already powerless, there's no need to be so rough!"

"Apparently, there is," Gabriel grunted, hauling Crowley upright once more before growling in his ear, "I'll show you mercy when I think you deserve it."

Aziraphale shut his eyes, twisting his head to the side, unable to stand the sight of the dazed hopelessness in the demon's expression.

It turned out to be a mistake; only hearing the wet slap of Gabriel slamming into Crowley's unresisting body was somehow worse, his mind running rampant with increasingly horrifying images of just how Gabriel had wrung that latest whimper of pain from Crowley. And yet he felt himself paralysed by fear, too scared to look again in case the horrors his thoughts were presenting to him paled in comparison to reality.

"Look at him, shaking and crying the way he is," Gabriel said, sounding quite pleased with himself. "All demons should look as humbled as he does right now, don't you think?" Gabriel snapped his fingers - not to perform a miracle, but to get Aziraphale's attention. "Aziraphale," he demanded. "I said look."

Aziraphale forced his eyes back open, not wanting to risk Gabriel taking his displeasure out on Crowley more than he already was.

Crowley's body trembled, glistening with sweat, muscles drawn taut as Gabriel held him stretched out against his own broad chest. The demon looked so slender and frail, a slight distention of his stomach visible from the sheer size of the cock Gabriel was forcing into him. Aziraphale felt sick. He'd wanted to see Crowley naked for some time, he couldn't pretend he hadn't, but the context in which he was seeing it filled him with nothing but dismay. Crowley hadn't given permission for Aziraphale to see him like this, hadn't given permission for a mockery of pleasure to be torn from him like this, hadn't given permission for any of it.

The golden outline of sunlight around the edges of the drawn blinds had faded entirely by the time Gabriel finally decided he'd taken his fill. Crowley had closed his eyes hours ago - one could almost be forgiven for assuming he'd passed out at some point, if not for his occasional whimper, or the steady stream of tears shining on his cheeks. Aziraphale's own eyes had long run dry, mired in a dull numbness of self-recrimination for leading Crowley into this horrific scenario.

He'd thought that it would at least be quick, that Gabriel would efficiently go the through the motions to get what he wanted, then leave Aziraphale to pick up the pieces. 

He should have known that the Archangel wouldn't be so merciful. 

Gabriel drove himself home with one last, brutal thrust, loudly making his satisfaction known, basking in it for a few moments before pulling out and miracling himself to cleanliness. Crowley crumpled into a heap without the support, wrecked and spent. A matching set of hand-shaped bruises were wrapped around his hips, another around his neck, and he curled in on himself, shuddering from the overstimulation and violation.

Gabriel stood, looking down at Crowley's pitiful, trembling form like it was a job well done. He looked smugly over at Aziraphale. "I'd say that I've accomplished everything I wanted to, here."

Aziraphale's voice cracked as he spoke. "Why don't you let him free and have him summon some for you, so you can test it out?"

"Cute." Gabriel smirked condescendingly, and with a cascading sense of horror, Aziraphale realised that Gabriel hadn't actually believed that having sex with Crowley was what had saved Aziraphale at his trial. That the Archangel knew he wasn't any more immune to hellfire now than he had been before he'd raped Crowley. Gabriel might not have been insightful enough to ever suspect that Aziraphale and Crowley knew each other so well as to be able to successfully masquerade as the other, but it was clear that the Archangel had suspected there was some sort of trick to his supposed immunity to hellfire, and Aziraphale had fed the suspicion by piggybacking off his lie. That this had all been about Gabriel exerting his dominance over the both of them, about taking something he'd known Aziraphale wanted.

The Archangel straightened his cuffs, then disappeared in a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder.

Knees weak, Aziraphale forced himself to his feet, staggering over to Crowley's prone form. His mind was reeling too much to be able to grasp onto the prayer needed to break the circle. Instead, he pried loose one of the floorboards with his bare hands, breaking the circle physically rather than verbally, tearing his perfectly manicured nails as he went.

Crowley shuddered as his powers flooded back to him, limbs shaky as a newborn foal's as he forced himself to his hands and knees.

"Enjoy the show, did you?" Crowley snapped bitterly, cleaning and healing himself with one wavering miracle and clothing himself with another. The effort seemed to drain him, knees and elbows buckling and nearly sending him back to the floor.

"I didn't-" Aziraphale choked out, feeling shamefully robbed of the chance to take care of Crowley's injuries for him. He reached out, seeking to at least comfort the demon, to help gently ease him to his feet. "Crowley, I'm so sor-"

Crowley violently wrenched himself away like Aziraphale's touch had burnt him, skittering to the other side of the circle. " _Get your handsss off me_ ," he hissed, eyes blazing a sulphurous yellow as he staggered upright. "What was the deal?" he demanded, his voice raw. He couldn't seem to straighten up completely, shoulders unconsciously keeping themselves curled in to present a smaller target, hands trembling. Despite the brave face he was putting on, it was achingly clear that the demon was an inch away from shattering. "What did he offer, that I wasn't worth more to you?"

Aziraphale's very soul seemed to lurch at the implication that he would trade off Crowley like that for something as paltry as his own personal gain. He stayed down on his knees, not trusting his legs to support him. "He didn't _offer_ me anything," he said, then, realising how that might come across, hastily added, "He threatened to destroy you if I didn't bring you here." The words sounded hollow and fake, even to his own ears. He bit his lip, knowing the question that would surely follow.

Crowley gave him a look like he'd just been flayed open, all his defences stripped bare. " _Why_?" 

"He-" Aziraphale stumbled and stopped, looking away in shame. He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell Crowley the truth, that it really was Aziraphale's fault. That Gabriel had done what he'd done purely because he'd known that it would hurt Aziraphale immeasurably to see Crowley used in such a way. "He seems to have gotten it into his head that the reason I was able to resist hellfire at my trial was because I'd… _known_ you, you know, biblically speaking. He wanted that immunity for himself. I tried to stop him, I swear to you I did, but he wouldn't listen to me. He said he'd hunt you down if I didn't help him, that he'd make it so much worse for you. I couldn't risk it, I couldn't risk losing you to him."

The demon's voice went flat and cold. "I know you're a shit liar, angel, but surely you can't expect me to believe it would have been that hard for you to convince him that the thought of touching me like that would be repulsive to you?"

Aziraphale looked back up, horrified. Crowley was wearing his sunglasses now, his face inscrutable behind the dark lenses. His hands were still shaking. 

"Crowley, how can you say that?" he asked softly, words trembling. "This was the only way I could save you. I would have rather let this entire shop burn to ash than to see you come to harm."

Crowley's face softened, just for a moment, open and desperate for any kind of consolation, then flipped back into a sneer. Aziraphale could almost see him hastily throwing up mental walls, blocking out the awfulness of what had just happened him and stubbornly pretending nothing was wrong, projecting an image of aloof disdain at all costs. "You might as well light a match, then, _angel_ , because what just happened to me was pretty bloody harmful, by anyone's standards."

Aziraphale flinched at the way Crowley spat the usually fondly spoken moniker at him. "The alternative would have been so much worse!" he begged. "Crowley, if I didn't allow it to happen this way, he would have taken you regardless, somewhere I'd never be able to find you, and _destroyed_ you at the end of it! I was only trying to protect you from a worse fate." 

  
The sneer deepened into a full-blown scowl. "And there wasn't anything you could have done to give me a heads up about what I was walking into?" He challenged. "Not one little hint you could've dropped that I was about to be _raped_ by an _Archangel_?" 

"I _tried_!" Tears misted in Aziraphale's eyes. "He was right there while I was on the phone with you, I couldn't say anything more than what I did!"

"I thought _you_ were in danger," Crowley told him harshly. "I thought someone was threatening you, I thought they'd hurt you if I didn't show up."

"What else was I supposed to do?" the angel cried. "If I'd said anything else, he would have destroyed you."

Crowley's pupils were two narrow, serpentine slits, barely peeking out over the rim of his sunglasses. His tongue flickered, briefly appearing forked at the end. "And you telling him how best to fuck me, like you had any _blessed_ authority on the matter, I'm sssupposed to believe that was you acting in my best interests, too?"

" _Yes_!" Aziraphale shouted, surging to his feet, hands balled into fists, the tears streaking hotly down his cheeks. "If I hadn't said what I did, he would have hurt you so much more. Everything I did, I did to try and minimise the amount of harm he would inflict on you. If there was anything else I could have done, anything I could have offered him, I would have given it gladly to keep you safe," Aziraphale implored, desperate for Crowley to believe him. Crowley had every right to be angry, of course he did. He had every right to call the angel weak, a coward, an utter bastard. 

Aziraphale just couldn't handle the implication that Crowley thought he'd _wanted_ any of this. His voice trembled. "You must understand, Crowley, there wasn't any other option." He hated the reproach in the curl of the demon's lips, hated how it just magnified the weight of the guilt already crushing down on him, nearly sending him back to his knees.

"Oh, I _must_ , must I? Just like that, I have to forgive you for serving me up to the Archangel Gabriel on a fucking silver platter? I'm not _allowed_ to be furious about this for even a minute, is that what you're telling me?"

Aziraphale stamped his foot, foolishly allowing his temper to get the better of him. "That's not what I meant! Why won't you _listen_ , I saved your life!"

He regretted the words the instant they left his mouth.

"Right," Crowley said, voice carefully even, spine suddenly ramrod straight. "That's that, then. There's no way in- in _anywhere_ I'm about to _thank_ you for any of this, which is clearly what you're after, so, I'm leaving now. See you never, Aziraphale." He turned smartly on his heel and headed for the door.

"Crowley, wait, I-I didn't mean it like that, I didn't mean to yell, I'm sorry-"

"Don't call me," Crowley told him without looking over his shoulder, then slammed the front door so hard the glass shattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I don't plan to do a follow up, however if someone else would like to take a crack you're more than welcome to. If you'd like, let me know and I'll drop a link to my Discord or my Dreamwidth (whichever's easiest for you) and send you the bits I did write to be used at your leisure (you can also take it in a completely different direction, you do you).


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